Chapter 5 - The Shadow Over the Terrace
The crisp autumn air of the terrace instantly cooled my burning cheeks, but the fire inside my veins refused to subside.
The French doors closed behind us with a soft, decisive latch, shutting out the murmurs and dropped jaws of seventy Chicago elites.
Below us, the manicured private gardens of the country club stretched out under the silver light of a half-moon.
A waiter hurried onto the terrace with trembling hands, setting down two crystal flutes and an ice bucket holding a bottle of vintage champagne.
He moved like a phantom, terrified of making a single mistake, before bowing backward into the ballroom and leaving us completely alone.
My hands were shaking so hard that I had to clasp them together against the emerald satin of my lap.
“Fiancée?” I whispered, turning to face Roman.
My heart was beating so violently against my ribs I thought the diamond necklace might vibrate off my collarbones.
“Roman, you called me your fiancée in front of everyone. In front of my sister’s future in-laws, the senior partners, Derek—”
“Did I stutter?” Roman asked calmly, walking over to the marble railing and resting his hands against the stone.
He looked out over the dark lawn, his profile sharp, dangerous, and completely untroubled by the earthquake he had just triggered inside.
“That wasn't part of the deal,” I said, stepping closer to him, my voice trembling with a mixture of awe and panic.
“You said you would be my boyfriend. You said you would sit beside me so they wouldn't laugh at me.”
“If I had merely walked in as your boyfriend, Derek Vance would have spent the entire night convincing himself that you hired an escort to save face.”
Roman turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight.
“When a woman wears the Rossi family ring, nobody asks questions. They simply bow their heads and calculate what it will cost them to cross her.”
I looked down at the massive, sparkling diamond on my left hand.
The weight of it felt impossible.
For years, Derek had told me that diamond rings were a waste of capital, promising me a modest silver band if we ever managed to save enough money.
Now, the heir to the most formidable syndicate in the Midwest had slid an heirloom onto my finger without blinking an eye.
“You destroyed him,” I murmured, a faint, disbelieving laugh escaping my lips.
“Did you see Derek’s face? He looked like he was going to vomit on his own shoes.”
“Vance is a lightweight,” Roman said dismissively.
“A parasitic little social climber who discarded a diamond because he didn't know how to polish it.”
He stepped away from the railing and closed the distance between us, stopping until the hem of his trousers brushed against the drape of my dress.
The casual intimacy of his proximity made my breath catch in my throat.
“You spent years letting those people tell you that you take up too much space, Sadi.”
He raised his hand, his knuckles gently grazing the side of my jawline, tracing the line down to the curve of my neck.
“In my world, power is about taking up space. It is about demanding the entire room without uttering a single apology.”
His eyes darkened with an intensity that made my knees weak.
“You do not belong in the background, Little Bird. You never did.”
For a split second, the line between our charade and reality blurred so completely that I thought he might actually lean down and kiss me.
My lips parted, my body instinctively leaning toward the heat radiating from his chest.
Then, a sharp, metallic sound cut through the night air.
It was the muffled crack of a silenced pistol discharge coming from the treeline at the edge of the golf course below.
In less than half a second, Roman’s entire demeanor shifted from seductive protector to lethal commander.
Before I could even register the sound, his arm clamped around my waist like an iron band.
He wrenched me off my feet, pulling me violently toward the stone alcove of the ballroom wall, using his own broad back as a human shield to block me from the open gardens.
Crack.
A second round struck the stone balustrade right where I had been standing three seconds earlier, spraying fine marble dust into the air.
I screamed, the sound muffled against Roman’s chest as he pinned me tightly against the cold brickwork.
“Stay down,” he commanded, his voice deadly calm, devoid of all panic.
With his free hand, he reached inside his tailored tuxedo jacket and drew a sleek, matte-black automatic handgun from a concealed leather holster under his arm.
He racked the slide with one smooth, terrifying motion.
Inside the ballroom, the muffled sound of violin music continued playing, the guests completely oblivious to the assassination attempt unfolding ten yards away on the terrace.
Roman reached into his pocket and tapped a speed-dial button on his encrypted smartphone, pressing it to his ear while keeping his gun aimed toward the dark treeline.
“Victor,” Roman spoke coldly into the receiver.
“West perimeter, three hundred yards out in the pine grove. Suppressed rifle. Neutralize him immediately and secure the vehicle.”
He ended the call, his breathing steady, his eyes scanning the darkness with the predatory calculation of a seasoned soldier.
I was trembling uncontrollably, my hands clutching the lapels of his suit jacket as if he were the only solid thing left on earth.
“Roman…” I choked out, tears of absolute terror stinging my eyes. “Someone is shooting at us…”
He looked down at me, his thumb sweeping across my cheek to brush away a rogue tear.
“Not at us, Sadi,” he murmured, his jaw rigid with fury.
“At me.”
He lowered his weapon slightly as two burly men in dark suits sprinted out onto the terrace through the side security gate, their hands resting on concealed holsters.
“Sir, the perimeter is being cleared. The Maybach is pulled around to the kitchen loading dock,” one of the men reported in a hushed, urgent voice.
Roman nodded once.
Then he looked back at me, his gaze fierce, possessive, and unapologetic.
“Remember when my phone buzzed in the kitchen at two in the morning?” he asked softly.
I nodded, my chest heaving.
“The Bratva moved two hit teams into Cook County last night,” Roman whispered, his grip on my waist tightening.
“I needed a public alibi to show I was occupied with personal matters, but I also needed an excuse to leave my fortified estate without raising suspicion.”
A cold realization washed over me, cutting through the adrenaline.
“You used me,” I whispered, heartbreak suddenly competing with the terror in my chest.
“You came to this dinner because you were drawing them out.”
Roman’s dark eyes locked onto mine, holding my gaze without flinching.
“I came because I wanted to see you take your revenge, Sadi.”
He stepped closer, shielding me completely from the cool wind.
“And now that they have seen you on my arm, you are marked as mine.”
He gripped my chin, his fingers firm and warm against my trembling skin.
May you like
“Which means you are never going back to that servant room, and you are never letting those people look down on you again.”
He leaned down until his breath brushed against my lips.
